Revival
by Akoge
Summary: *REWRITE* Two brothers are sent into Panem on a mission to topple to bloody annual tradition of the Hunger Games. Posing as tributes, they infiltrate the games in hope of destroying it from the inside. But this year marks the fourth quarter quell, and the special rules make for some especially familiar tributes...
1. Prologue

The crisp night air stung Christian's throat as he squinted into the darkness in search of his brother. It was cold, nothing compared to the land that was his home after _that event,_ but certainly enough to send a shiver down his spine. They couldn't risk a fire after all, not while they were so close to the district.  
The district… He was going to have to split with his brother and go his own way soon. This part of the plan made him nervous. He didn't really want to leave the easily distracted Australian alone in a place like this. Or was that unsettled feeling more connected to a fear that something might happen to himself? He wasn't sure.

His thoughts were cut short by something eight-legged and hairy suddenly dropping onto his shoulder. He stifled a yelp and the spider was flung off in a series of ungraceful flailing movements.  
"Jack you _munter_ ," he hissed as his brother dissolved into fits of laughter behind him, "what part of 'being stealthy' do you not understand?"  
"Obviously enough to creep on you," Jack said, his grin visible even in the dim moonlight, "you needa lighten up mate."  
Christian shook his head and muttered something about high-maintenance idiots. How Jack could act like some five year old in a situation like this was beyond him.  
"Chrissy," Christian glared at the use of the nickname, "We'll be right. We just gotta waltz in there, wait 'till the signal and waltz right out again."  
"You're forgetting the part where 'there' is a bloodthirsty fight to the death," said Christian grumpily.  
"Ehh, details aren't my strong point," Jack waved a dismissive hand in front of his face, "we're strong, we'll cope."  
Silence fell upon the two and for a moment Jack's expression betrayed worry.  
"Christia-"  
"You're right," Christian said quietly, eyes trained on the ground.

Jack blinked.

"Details aren't your strong your strong point," Christian pointed to the ant nest that Jack was standing on, "I think there's one on your leg."  
Jack just laughed, much to Christian's irritation, though he did step away from the nest rather quickly. Christian glanced up at the moon, he really did need to get moving. Jack seemed to sense what he was thinking as his smile became strained.  
"You better get to eight safely," He said, "I can't go in without me' backup can I?"  
"I'll be fine Jack. You're starting to sound like Alf-" Christian caught himself before he finished the name, but Jack winced anyway.  
"Like Alfred used too," Jack's grin had turned into a solemn grimace, "It really did used to drive big bro nuts huh. "  
"Jack.…"  
Jack shook his head and looked up at his brother, mouth set in a determined line.  
"We're doing this for them," he said firmly, "We can't let them down."  
Christian smiled grimly and shook his head, "We won't."  
"I'll see you in the games." It wasn't a question.  
"In the games," Christian agreed.

Without another word Christian turned and left, leaving Jack to make his own way into district twelve. Maybe they'd both be fine, he thought as stepped carefully through the night.  
Vengeance was a powerful motivator after all.

* * *

 **It's finally up! If you've read the old story, lemme know If you like the new style. I have actually already completed three chapters, but I'll lay off on updating to give me time to write more before I get bogged down with work.  
** **Also, I've been considering cross-posting this onto A03, but I guess I'll decide on that later.**

 **Anyway, I'll see you next chapter, Enjoy!**


	2. Reaping

District One buzzed with excitement as the reaping candidates assembled in the decorated town hall. The pre-selected careers strode through the crowd, met with applause and congratulations. One youthful auburn haired man watched them pass from a distance. No one paid him much mind as he shuffled into the hall alongside to watch the reaping. His normally bright eyes were downcast, thin fingers picking anxiously with his clothes.  
He was too old to be selected this year, and the careers had already been chosen, but it didn't stop the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. A few disdainful glances were shot in his direction as he sniffled miserably, he didn't want to be here. He never did.  
At least, he didn't think he ever did. His thin eyebrows scrunched together as he racked his brain for memories, an action he did often since he woke up in an alleyway five years ago.

"And now an announcement from our esteemed President Snow!" The young man jumped as the voice blared out over the loud-speakers and was greeted with a raucous applause. On the screens above him, the capital coat-of-arms faded out to reveal Snow's face. He smiled down upon the crowd and raised his hand.  
The hall fell dead silent.

"Greeting people of Panem, and welcome to the one hundredth annual Hunger Games," Snow's voice echoed through the hall, "As you may well know, this year marks a very special anniversary for the games and we intend to mark it as such."  
There was no applause; all eyes were drawn to the screens in a silent awe.

"For this fourth quarter quell, we have two special conditions for contestants in the games," Snow continued.  
The young man shivered, he couldn't help but feel that Snow's piercing blue eyes were staring right at him now. But that couldn't be right, could it?  
"Our first special condition," a pause, "There will be no volunteering for the games this year."  
Shock settled over all the people watching, then outrage. The hall broke into a cacophony of shouted protests. Peacekeepers surged forward to quell the crowd. The young man covered his ears and whimpered in some sort of attempt to protect himself from the onslaught of noise.

A shot rang out.

Silence

The peacekeeper who had fired his gun into the air calmly returned it to his side. The crowd slowly returned their attentions to the screen. The young man was now trembling in fear, he had a very bad feeling about this.  
"Our second special condition," Snow's pleasant smile morphed into a sneer, "Our tributes this year will be picked out from anyone, bar our previous victors of course, between the ages of twelve and thirty-five."

There a single cry of shock, but it was quickly silenced. The young man's blood ran cold. No no no no, he was supposed be safe, over the maximum age for the games. People around him began to mutter in frantic, hushed tones, all the while Snow's face smiled down upon them.  
"Now I believe I have delayed you enough, we will move onto the reaping," he said calmly, "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds, ever be in your favour."  
His face faded out as the screen cut to live footage of the District One stage. The young main felt a wail of fear rising from his throat and struggled to keep it down as an extravagantly dressed man stepped out onto the stage.  
"Now isn't that a shock," he said, smile as fake as his bright pink hair, "I didn't see that one coming at all."  
The crowd remained silent, staring up at him despairingly.  
"Oooh, eager to get on with the reaping are we? Very well, ladies first shall we?" a delicately manicured hand dipped into the glass bowl to his left and plucked a piece of paper from the top.  
"Sophie Hanson."  
The crowd parted to reveal a tough looking woman who looked about thirty years of age. She stepped forward, everyone averting their eyes as she passed.  
She stepped onto the stage, staring coldly out at the crowd. Though, the young man couldn't help but notice her trembling hands.  
"Sophie congratulations! You will be representing your district in the Hundredth Hunger Games!" the Escort smiled and patted her on the shoulder, "Shall we move on to the men then?"

The young man's heart was hammering in his chest as the Escort crossed the stage to second glass bowl. As if in slow motion, his hand reached into the ball, shuffled the paper around and pulled out the small slip of paper that could be someone's death sentence.  
The Escort read the name, smiled, and brought the microphone up to his lips.  
"Feliciano Vargas."  
The young man burst into tears.

* * *

Jack sat on the train to the Capital sighing in relief that his reaping had gone off without a hitch. He'd have to (begrudgingly) thank that man when all this was over. That was if he ever saw him again, the guy was almost unpredictable as the weather used to be before everything froze over.  
His thoughts drifted back to Christian as he stared anxiously at the rather sizeable television, waiting for the rerun of the reaping. For now, he didn't even know if his brother had made it to the district, let alone be successfully reaped into the games.  
"Your name's Jack Brown right?" Jack looked up to see his district partner peering curiously into the carriage.  
She was young thing, her thin face framed by short brown hair the same colour as her eyes.  
"Yeah, that's me," he grinned, "Good old Jacko."  
The young girl squinted at him, "I haven't seen you around before."  
"Nah, really?" Jack said, "Guess 'ya haven't been looking hard enough."  
The girl frowned a little and took a few hesitant steps towards him, "you don't seem upset about being here."  
"Mm, just keepin' up appearances 'ya know?" He reclined into the soft couch, "What's your name?"  
"You'd know if you paid attention at the reaping," said the girl irately, "It's Emily. Emily Palmer"  
Jack shrugged, "Sorry I missed it Em, guess I got a bit caught up in the moment."

Emily didn't respond, instead opting to stare down at her feet. For a moment they sat in silence like that, Jack alternating between looking out the window and glancing at the television screen. Once again his thoughts turned back to his brother and he worried his bottom lip with his teeth.  
"Bloody sheep-shagger better be alright," he muttered under his breath.  
"The what better be alright?"  
"It's nothin'," Jack sighed, "Got any family Em?"  
"Just my mum and my little brother," Emily said quietly, "They're waiting for me back home…"  
She turned her face pointedly away from Jack, her hands balled into fists so tightly they began to turn white. Jack cursed internally, maybe that _wasn't_ the most appropriate question to ask right now.

"Hello you two! Getting along well I hope," Both Jack and Emily jumped as a well-dressed, middle-aged man sauntered into the carriage, "Oh, where are my manners, I am Chester Richardson, I'll be doubling as your Escort and your mentor for the games."  
Jack and Emily both got to their feet, Jack extending his hand to the newcomer, who took it eagerly.  
"'M Jack Brown, and this here's Em-" Jack began.  
"I _can_ introduce myself," Emily said, stepping past Jack to shake Chester's hand herself, "Emily Palmer."  
Chester clapped his hands together, "Splendid, now that we're all done with introductions, I was thinking perhaps we could go over some basic tips and-"

The Capital anthem cut Chester off, signalling the beginning of the reruns. Jack flashed an apologetic grin before hurrying back to the couch, followed by Emily.  
A man with a bleached white smile stared out from the screen. His lavender hair had been swept lazily out of unnaturally cyan eyes.  
"Welcome back Panem, I'm Cornelius Rowe, your presenter for the official broadcast of the Hundredth Annual Hunger Games, " He said, Jack swore his eyes were twinkling unnervingly in excitement, "I'm sure you're all eager to get a recap on this year's contestants. We've got a wide range of tributes this year, I'm sure they'll make these games very interesting! Shall we go meet them?"  
The camera turned to reveal a large audience, all roaring their approval.  
"I'm sorry, I don't think that was quite loud enough," Cornelius said, pouting at the camera, "I said PANEM, ARE YOU READY TO MEET YOUR TRIBUTES?"  
The crowd roared again, Jack turned down the volume in an attempt to save his ears.  
"I think we have our answer," he said, winking, "let's go down to District One shall we?"

His face faded out, replaced by sweeping shot over the heads of a crowd gathered in a large hall before a stage. Giant screens hung from the ceiling and the walls were adorned with various banners depicting the districts previous victors staring out impassively through painted eyes.  
"Now this year's special conditions mean we're going to be seeing a very different tribute to the kind expected from our perhaps most renowned career district," Cornelius finished just at the District One Escort selected the name of the female candidate.  
"Sophie Hanson,"  
Immediately, the screen depicted a steely eyed woman standing on the stage, "Now here is a woman I can see going home a Victor. Sophie is definitely going to be a favourite to win this year. And now to our male tribute, now if Sophie is the ideal District One candidate, this young man may seem to be the most flawed."

"Feliciano Vargas."  
Jack froze. That name was… No, it had to be a coincidence, there was no way that he could possibly still be-  
A young man was hauled up onto the stage by the peacekeepers, and all doubt vanished from Jack's mind. He was exactly as Jack remembered him, from the frantic hand-gestures to the stray curl of hair bobbing beside his left ear.  
"...so yes, you 'ought to keep an eye on him," Jack vaguely became aware of the fact that Chester was speaking, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the screen.  
He was alive, despite all of the odds stacked against him, Feliciano was bloody alive!

"Now we'll be moving on to district two," Cornelius' voice pulled Jack from his stupor and Feliciano's face faded from the screen.  
"Jack, are you alright?" With Emily's question Jack suddenly became aware of the wetness around his eyes and flushed red.  
"I uh.… "He couldn't exactly tell them about Feliciano, it'd put the whole mission at risk, "I guess watching the reaping hah. I didn't seem real before and now..."  
Emily looked away with a muttered 'oh', the same realisation probably coming to her now. Chester cleared his throat and gestured to the screen, where the female district two tribute was already standing on the stage.  
"Now this next young man, just over the age limit of the normal games, he seems rather glad for this year's special conditions I think."  
"Alfred Jones."

Hope flowed through Jack like a river and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from whooping. First Feliciano and now Alfred? If they were still alive, then maybe others were too. He struggled to supress a grin as Alfred bounded up onto the stage and waved to the crowd, large goofy grin stretched across his face.  
"He's shaking," Emily commented beside him.  
Jack blinked, it was true. Though barely noticeable, Alfred's hands were definitely trembling as he reached out to shake hands with his district partner.  
"Yes, though with a smile like that," Chester shrugged, "He could prove a dangerous enemy in the race for sponsors."  
That wasn't right, why would he be shaking? He couldn't be scared, he was the big brave hero who rushed in with little to no thought of the consequences.  
Jack put it aside, he could always ask him when he got to the capital. That brought back his good mood, he could actually _talk_ to Alfred again.

The next few districts continued like this, Jack mentally cheering as he discovered the survival of Kiku Honda in district three, Gilbert Beilschmidt and Natalia Arlovskaya in district four, Lovino Vargas in district five (his similarity to Feliciano not going unnoticed by Cornelius), and both Vash and Erika Zwingli ("siblings! What are the chances?") in district six.

When district seven came up on the screen, Jack stared at the screen with rapt attention, Emily and Chester's conversation going right over his head.  
"And now district seven's male candidate, and would you look at those brows, he's going to give his stylists a heart attack."  
Jack's heart stopped, considering the trend, there was no way it could be anyone else.  
"Arthur Kirkland!"  
A small, high pitched noise escaped his throat, drawing confused glances from both Emily and Chester. Jack didn't care, Green eyes, achingly familiar, were scowling out under bushy brows as he was led onto the stage. Jack idly wondered if Christian was seeing this, wondered how he felt.  
He wouldn't have to wait long, Arthur's scowl was replaced by district eight  
"Christian Wilson," Jack let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding as his brother's name was called. Christian made a big show of being distraught, Jack made a mental note to tease him about his crying face when all this was over.

The last few districts reaping continued in much the same manner of those prior, Ivan Braginski for nine, Ludwig Erdmann and Elizabeta Hederavy for ten, Antonio Carriedo and Irunya Chernenko for eleven. Chester turned off the television before twelve's reaping and began talking tactics.  
Jack wasn't listening, all these people he'd thought were dead, living and breathing and on their way to the same destination. After all those cold years spent with only Christian for company, he was finally going to see them again!  
So why was it then, that he felt so uneasy?

 **Thanks for the feedback guys! The plot's starting to get underway!  
Also, in answer to pileofcards;  
It's not a dumb question, though I have to admit the answer is kinda dodgy. As it were, both Australia and New Zealand are no longer 'nation nations' however there are still people in their country who still identify as Australian or a New Zealander. Because of this, I'd say Jack and Christian could still die, but they're still a bit more durable than the average person with somewhat (not ridiculously so) elevated healing rates. I hope that makes sense ^^;**

 **Anyway, the next Chapter will be up some time next week, feedback really is appreciated too!**


	3. Meeting

Applause burst from the platform as Chester led Jack and Emily off the train and toward the building that would be their home until the games began. All around them the citizens of the capitol cheered and waved, Emily and Jack, as Chester had advised them before they had gotten off the train, waved back.  
Jack couldn't help but marvel at the strange dress of the people around him, and he thought Europe was weird. He hadn't realised that he'd stopped to stare until Emily tugged at his sleeve, eliciting a series of aww's from the crowd. Chester watched the exchange thoughtfully, eventually shrugging and stepping through the automatic door, gesturing to Jack and Emily to follow him.  
The door slid shut with a hiss as soon as they passed it, shutting off all sound from the outside world.

"I'll take you up to the room for a quick debriefing and dinner," Chester told them as they got into the elevator, "you'll meet the other tributes tomorrow morning at training."  
Jack was too busy staring out the clear wall of the elevator at the sprawling city before him. Though he'd always preferred the dusty plains and mountain ranges, he could not deny the eerie beauty that this city held. Much like the dress of the capitol citizens, the lights of the city shone in a variety of colours. Buildings rose high into the night sky, unmoving concrete creations that were still somehow graceful in their shapes and design. It was terrifying to consider the foundations of the city, the blood soaked into the soil it was built on.  
Jack snorted, if only Arthur could hear his thoughts now, he'd turned into some kinda poet in his isolation.  
"Now as you're our District Twelve tributes, you'll be getting the top suite all to yourselves isn't that exciting," Chester said, then clapped his hands in front of his face, "Oh my, I almost forgot, you'll be needing these to get into the room. Don't forget, you're not allowed to bring other tributes up here, this floor is exclusively for us!"  
Chester handed them both a card just as the elevator doors slid open. Emily made a small noise of excitement as she rushed past Chester and into the suite. Jack followed, awe-struck eyes darting around the room in an attempt to take in everything at once. It certainly was spacious, but furniture and decoration managed to fit itself into all the rooms in a way that didn't make them feel empty or cluttered.  
Chester chuckled at their reactions, "Now, we have plenty of time to look at our rooms _after_ dinner."  
He gestured to an ornate dining table, laden with what could only be described as a feast.  
"YES!" Jack cheered scrambling toward the table and depositing himself in a chair.  
"I've never seen so much food in my entire life," Emily said in awe as she took a seat beside him.  
Chester had barely touched his seat when Emily and Jack began piling food onto their plates.

Roast chicken, soft-buttered potatoes a few slices of lightly toasted made a brief appearance on Jack's plate before he stuffed them down his gullet with a speed that could almost rival Alfred.  
Chester watched the display with an upturned lip as Jack sucked the grease off his fingers and Emily began reaching for seconds.  
"Every year I swear," he sighed in exasperation, "You do know how to use a knife and fork yes?"  
Jack and Emily paused their demolition of the banquet and stared at him as if he was an idiot. Jack guiltily reached for his fork but only succeeded in knocking it onto the floor.  
"Oh, bugger," he said, spitting bread crumbs as he leant to retrieve it.  
"Language," Chester muttered unhappily.  
Emily smiled at him sympathetically, though the intention was somewhat lost in the fact that she had neglected to swallow her food first.

After a while, when Jack and Emily finally pushed their empty plates away and sat with contented smiles Chester coughed to attract their attention.  
"Now that we've all finished," he began, "I'd like to go over our plan for tomorrow."  
He paused to make sure the two tributes were listening before he continued.

"Straight after breakfast, you'll both be taken down to the training room where you'll meet the other tributes. Now, normally I'd recommend not speaking much with them and focusing on survival and basic combat skills, however considering the nature and age of your opponents this year it may be more beneficial to try and make some allies.

The district two male tribute may be a useful ally, his charisma may be useful in gaining sponsors. I'd avoid eleven, the male seems unapproachable and getting on his bad side may be dangerous, the female, while more approachable, may become a liability later in the game. Both district six tributes will likely be working together already, no point approaching them. Also as you meet the fellow tributes, try to avoid the ones who seem to unreadable, they may be dangerous in the end. This means district three…"

Jack's attention waned at that point, and his gaze drifted about the room. He was going to see everyone tomorrow, he wasn't sure whether that unsettled feeling in his stomach was from excitement, nerves, or eating too much.  
Of course, there was always the chance one of them would slip up and reveal their identities to all of Panem, they were under heavy surveillance at all time after all. Christian was probably worrying about that right now.

"Now off to bed with you both," said Chester interrupting Jack's thoughts, "Exciting day tomorrow, you'll need your sleep. Jack your room is to the left and Emily to the right"  
Emily rolled her eyes, but slid off her chair and wandered toward her designated room. Jack glanced at Chester before following suite.  
Tomorrow would turn out how tomorrow would turn out and there was nothing he could do about that now. He could only rest and prepare himself for whatever tomorrow could possibly throw at him.

* * *

Jack was not prepared for what tomorrow threw at him. The moment he stepped into the training room, he knew something was wrong.  
He walked over to Christian, who was standing anxiously near the spears. There were a few glances thrown in his direction as he went, but no one approached him.  
"What is- Uh, you using these?" he asked Christian, only remembering that they weren't supposed to know each other at the last moment.  
"No, go ahead," Christian's voice was shaky and he was constantly glancing over at the others, "I'm Christian Wilson, district eight."  
"Jack Brown, district twelve," Jack stuck out his hand and Christian shook it.  
They both threw the spears around for a while, until Christian completely missed the target and Jack dropped his spear in shock. Christian almost _never_ missed with a spear, something was definitely wrong.  
"You right?" Jack asked, Christian slowly shook his head.  
"Just nerves," he muttered.  
"Hey you guys! Mind if we join you?"

Christian and Jack both froze as two sets of footsteps approached them. That voice was so achingly familiar, Jack slowly turned and when he opened his mouth to respond, he found he couldn't speak.  
"Guys?" Alfred Jones peered at them curiously through his thin-rimmed glasses.  
"You can use them. We were just going," Christian said stiffly, Jack stared at him incredulously.  
"Why-"  
"Oh cool, 'cus I made a deal with this weird guy here," Alfred said cheerfully, "If I can hit the bullseye we're gonna team up in the arena"  
"I didn't agree to anything you git," grumbled a voice behind him, "I just said tha-"  
Arthur Kirkland stopped and furrowed his bushy brows as he looked over Jack and Christian. Jack's heart was hammering in his chest.  
"It doesn't matter, I doubt you'll hit it anyway," Arthur shook his head, "I am Arthur Kirkland, District Seven. This twat is Alfred F. Jones"  
"I'm Jack Kir- Brown," Jack coughed, "Jack Brown, District Twelve."  
"Christian Wilson."  
"Well, Jack, Christian," Arthur nodded politely at them, "I suppose we'll be seeing a lot of each other over the next few days"  
They stepped past the two brothers without another word and Jack was struck with the awful realisation that out of all the emotions he'd seen on both Arthur and Alfred's faces so far, recognition was not one of them.  
"Let's go make snares," Christian's tone was sombre as he tugged on Jack's sleeve.  
Jack nodded numbly. Arthur and Alfred didn't know who they were, heck, he didn't even know if they recognised each other.  
"This is shit," he said under his breath.

* * *

Feliciano Vargas was not having a good time so far. First, the District Five tribute who looked like him had accused him of being an 'identity-stealing bastard' and stormed off before Feliciano could reply. Then, he'd gone to talk to the pretty girl from six only to have her brother yell at him until he cried. Finally, he'd gone to the knot tying section only to end up getting his legs tangled up in the rope so badly that the District Ten tribute with the scary face had to come and save him.  
Said tribute was now sitting next to him and trying to teach him how to tie a granny knot.  
"Like this?" Feliciano asked, holding up his knot for inspection.  
"Almost," The blond took the rope from Feliciano's hands and made some adjustments, "But you need to loop it over like this instead."  
"Oh!" Feliciano smiled brightly, "Thank you uh…"  
"Ludwig Erdmann," he nodded curtly, "and you're Feliciano Vargas yes?"  
"Yeah! How did you know?" Feliciano asked.  
"I watched the reaping on the train," Ludwig said, "You left an impression."  
"I did? It's because I'm not like the normal District One candidate right?" Feliciano blinked owlishly up at Ludwig.  
"No it's-," Ludwig started.

"Because that's fine, a lot of the people in District One are really scary! Oh they're watching this right now aren't they? Oh no, if I get back they'll probably be mad I said that, but then they're mad a lot so it might not make it much of a difference."  
Feliciano continued talking, Ludwig was really nice even though he yelled at the District Four tribute before and he had a scary face. Right now, he was staring at Feliciano's waving hands with an expression somewhere between annoyance and bemusement.  
"Hey Ludwig, are you teaming up with anyone in the arena?" Feliciano suddenly asked.  
"I… no," Ludwig said.  
"Oh that's great! We can make an alliance and none of the others would even try going after us because you're so scary looking!" Feliciano said excitedly.  
"That's an interesting idea," Ludwig said hesitantly, "But I am not sure it's a good one. What would I receive in return?"  
Feliciano paused to think about it.  
"Nothing really, I'll be like your younger brother so you can protect me and I'll disappoint you," He said cheerfully, "It's like a friendship."  
Ludwig squinted at him, "like a friendship?"  
"Yeah! It'll be great! We can sing around a campfire while cooking food, and oh! Maybe some of the others could be our friends too-"  
"Feliciano I do not think that that is…" Ludwig sighed, "In our situation I am not sure that is possible."  
"Do you think there will be things to cook with in the arena? I hope there will be pasta! I've only had it once but it's my favourite thing in the whole wide world!" Feliciano didn't want to hear what Ludwig was saying, it wasn't true. Not at all.  
"Feliciano…"  
"It'll definitely be okay," Feliciano said firmly, "It'll be okay."  
Ludwig stared at him for a while, although considering something. Finally, after a moment of silence between them, he stood crossing his arms over his chest.

"Very well, we shall have an alliance," He said, "But you must do exactly as I say, and you will have to undergo strict training in preparation for the arena."  
Feliciano began to blubber his thanks, but Ludwig cut him off with a stern glare.  
"First we will build stamina, it will be more useful to you then strength," he said, "Fifteen laps around the facility, follow me."  
He took off at a steady jog, leaving a stunned Feliciano clutching a half completed granny knot in his hands.  
"Wha-"  
"Get to it!" Ludwig barked over his shoulder.  
"Y-YES SIR!" Feliciano dropped the rope and followed after Ludwig, unaware of the dark brown eyes watching them go.

 **A new chapter! Amazing! Also, I feel like I should mention, the oc's in this story are kinda filler characters, I feel bad about that because they seem cool, but the focus is on the countries here!  
Sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes also, I try find them before I update but I always miss a few .'**


End file.
